


For the Glory: The Child

by Wulfmoon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, Dungeons & Dragons References, First Meetings, My First AO3 Post, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wulfmoon/pseuds/Wulfmoon
Summary: In the land of Wildmount, the city of Bladgarden is not the easiest place for a child to grow up alone. Our young protagonist is just trying to make it through what should have been a normal day, but the arrival of a mysterious creature derails the little ragamuffin's path. Sending her into a spiral that promises to change her life. Will she fight or embrace it?(last warning, there is talk of blood, gore, allusions to sensual activity, and abandoned children)





	For the Glory: The Child

Glory   
Part 1: The Child  
“Get back here, ya little devil!!” A plump, clean-shaven dwarf man roars from behind a cloud of flour.   
The morning market is crowded as ever in Bladegarden. Travelers from far and wide mill about purchasing supplies for their journeys. Imperial officials and their bloated entourages monopolize the merchants’ time. And a scrawny, periwinkle Tiefling girl - all bundled in sack-cloth rags - darts from behind the baker’s stall. The girl tugs the burlap over a mass of tangled, dusky-lilac curls that cascade down past her shoulders and gives a little victorious skip. She clutches her prize to her chest in her small, grubby fingers and giggles to herself.  
“Sorry! But a girl’s gotta eat!” she says, shooting the raging flour cloud a playful wink from over her shoulder. The small girl darts through the crowded market, her bare feet squelching in the morning mud, but she doesn’t seem to mind.   
“Guard! Guard!!” the Dwarven baker storms out from his stall, bellowing like a bear. He’s caked, from his bald head down to his knees, in a heavy layer of white flour. Only the emerald flames of his green eyes flare from under heavy, powdered brows. “Ah want that bloody imp’s head!!”   
“Oooh, hes mad today.” The small Tiefling winces as she tumbles between the legs of an oblivious noblewoman and under a stall draped in lavish silks and heavy wools. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to slow the heart pounding in her chest. It would not do to get caught now with the goods in hand, she’d have to be as quiet as possible.   
As if on cue, the clamor of chain and plate heralds the arrival of Bladegarden’s finest. From where she is sitting, it sounds like four of them sprint past her hiding space and come to attention in front of the fuming dwarf.   
“Master Erend,” an imperious voice speaks in a very thick Zemnian accent, with its harsh staccato. “What has happened here?”   
“What happened?!” Erend the baker snarled, openly mocking the guardswoman “What happened today is exactly what happened yesterday, an’ tha day before that!” The girl hears him spitting and sputtering in rage, she has to cover her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Tha’ little horned shit,” he spat the word “she keeps getting inta’ mah shop an’ gettin’ away with whatever she likes! An’ ye tin soldiers canna do a thing about it!”   
“I presume you are referring to the Tiefling child you reported yesterday?” she said, her voice cool and calm despite the Erend spitting fire.   
“Oh, noooo,” he scoffs at her. Erend’s voice oozes sarcasm. “There be another wee imp runnin’ ‘round, terrorizin’ the good folk of the market.” The raging dwarf drops the sarcasm with a loud, wet spit. “O’course I’m talkin’ ‘bout tha same little devil. What in the hells do ye plan ta’ do ‘bout it?!” Erend flails his thick, hairy arms in exasperation. Puffs of flour leap into the air with every wild gesture. “Shes hit tha butcher, meself, tha grocer as well! Is enough ta’ drive a man mad, it ‘tis! Shes here in tha damn market somewhere, ya bloody well do somethin’ ‘bout it or ‘ah will!”   
“Ofcourse, Master Erend.”   
From under the creaking wooden booth, the little Tiefling hears the clang of a gauntlet striking a breastplate followed by murmured “Yessir”s , and the rest of the guards began to move.  
Uhoh. She knows that’s no good.  
“Please explain this morning’s events in detail. My guardsmen shall seek out and apprehend the girl without fail.” This guardswoman remains cool and collected, though there is a hint of something cruel and confident curling at the edges of her voice, like toxic smoke.   
Something about that makes the little ragged girl shiver and her stomach begins to twist.   
Suddenly this isn’t fun anymore.   
The heavy metallic steps of the guardsmen spread out, she can hear them tearing through stall after stall, stopping patrons and examining their goods.   
The ragamuffin dares to sneak a glimpse into the market, peeking her head out from under a bolt of crimson silk. She sees guardsmen in chain alongside men and women in brown cloaks, working together to search booths and patrons alike. Had those hooded men been there before? She can’t recall. There were so many now, how is she going to get out? The little imp worries at her bottom lip, wracking her brain.   
Then someone catches her eye.   
As she scans the square, looking for an exit, she locks eyes with a woman. A woman unlike any the little thief has ever seen.   
She is slender and tall, a collection of long, graceful curves that rival the perfection of the statues she occasionally sleeps under in the city’s center. Her lightly tanned skin bares no scars that she could see, no imperfections and no signs of age. The woman wears tall boots over black leather trousers, a plain bouse hangs open over her slender chest, all held together at the waist by the single button of a dramatically flowing coat of rich crimson and golden embroidery. Gracefully pointed ears poke out from underneath long, shining copper locks. Her warm amber eyes glow from beneath her perfectly sculpted brow with a knowing, unearthly gleam.   
And those amber orbs are staring right at her.   
The girl stifles a gasp and darts back under the table. It was time to go, now.   
She crawls carefully under the adjoining stall, laden heavy with oils and perfumes by the smell, and shadows a guardsman until he passes an alleyway she can duck into. Still clutching her stolen goods to her chest with one skinny arm, she scurries up a filthy gutter hanging into the street.   
She has done it a hundred times, hide on the rooftops and wait for whatever mess she made to blow over.   
As the child hauls her small frame up onto the roof, ready to crawl away with the goods, she comes face to face – more accurately face to toe – with a gleaming black boot.   
“You know, darling” the warm, rich alto of a woman’s voice washes over her. She sounded like dreams of a warm bath and heady incense. The young girl’s eyes travel up those boots and that crimson coat, all the way up to meet a set of gleaming amber eyes. “you managed to cause quite the stir, then somehow got away with the goods scot free.” Her plush, crimson lips curl up in a warm smile. Though the warmth of that smile is somewhat undone as the little urchin notices the gleaming silver sword at her hip. The sight of the blade stops the girl in her tracks and ties her stomach up in knots. “I find myself quite impressed.”   
The elf isn’t reaching for the sword right away, there is still time to escape.   
The girl shoves the paper-wrapped bundle between her teeth and tries to skitter away like a roach, but a strong, slender hand grabs the scruff of her rags.   
“Now, now, lets not make any hasty decisions.” The elf woman chuckles. “You are in a lot of trouble, child.”  
The girl feels the hot wave of anger boil up in her chest and it rushes out before she can think.   
“Its just a little food!” the parcel of tumbles from her mouth, but the elf woman catches it in the air. “Didn’t hurt nobody or nothin’ ”  
“On the contrary, darling,” the elf woman’s voice drops, low and serious “you’ve injured their pride. Which, in your case, is far more dangerous...”  
The girl squirms in her grip.   
This woman is talking nonsense and shes got the bread.   
The Tiefling child glares up at the elf. Those amber eyes glow softly with concern as she gazes back at the girl. With a sigh, the elf lowers the girl to her feet and kneels to meet her at eye level.  
“I’m not here to hurt you, little one, I-“ she shakes her head “…Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Elara,” she offers a slender hand to shake “what may I call you?”  
The little girl looks over Elara.   
Her hand is nowhere near the sword at her hip and her body is relaxed. It doesn’t feel like Elara is threatening or pressing. Or maybe she is simply good at hiding it?   
The girl just shakes her head.  
“No name?” Elara’s eyes soften and she reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from the little girl’s face. “Alright sweetheart, I’ll make you a deal,” Elara says, looking into the girl’s eyes. “I’ll help you out of this mess, but you’ve got to promise me that you’ll stay out of that market. Those guardsmen will string you up if they find you-”  
“Why?” the girl’s pale lilac brow furrows and her mouth twists into a suspicious frown. Too-skinny arms cross her chest, she looks like a little thug trying to size up a rival. Elara stifles a chuckle.   
“Because, sweetheart, I want to. Helping people is what I do.” She never breaks eye contact with the girl. “What do you think? Can you do that for me?”   
The girl begins to protest. She jumps as Elara tucks the stolen loaf into her coat but stops when she hears the telltale clink of coin, like tiny bells in her pocket.  
Elara holds up three gold coins for the girl to see and watches her eyes widen. The gleam of the coins reflects in her sapphire eyes.   
“Take these and head to the inn, the Regal Raven. The keeper is a good man, he’ll feed you and if you tell him I sent you he’ll help you as best he can.” The girl’s mouth drops open and her grubby fingers knot together. “sound like a deal?”  
The little one stares at Elara for a moment, mouth agape and nearly shaking with excitement. She’d never been so close so much gold.   
Then inspiration strikes.  
A look of glee blossoms across the little girl’s face and, without warning, she flings herself at Elara. The elf gasps in surprise as the girl’s wiry arms wrap firmly around her waist, her gently curved horns jab into Elara’s ribs as she crushes her face to the elf’s stomach and begins to cry.   
“Thank you!” the little girl sobs “thank you so much Miss Elara! I’ll be good, I promise!”  
“Shh, shh, easy sweetheart.” She coos at the girl. “Easy. You’re not out of trouble yet.” She takes a firm grip of the girl’s shoulders and pulls her back to face her. “Now, keep your head down, and head to the Raven, alright?” she takes one of the girl’s filthy hands and wraps her fingers around the coins.   
The little one sniffles and gives an eager nod.   
“Okay.” She says in a very small voice. “I will.”   
The girl watches Elara rise to her full height. The elf’s slender fingers tousle the matted mop of her hair and she smiles.  
“Good girl. Be safe. I hope we meet again.” She gives the girl a small smirk just before her body coils like a spring and she leaps into a backflip. The girl yelps and scurries to the roof’s edge to see where she went, but the woman is gone.   
A small, satisfied laugh bubbles up the little girl’s throat as she pats the ornate - and very heavy – coin purse stashed into her mass of rags.   
Miss Elara has been extremely helpful indeed.  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
“Whats that ya got there, Pup?” the grizzled dragonborn leans over his heavy wooden bar, rubbing his good eye with a golden claw.   
The Warf Rat is still empty at this early hour. Millie the halfling chef is out back prepping tonight’s meal for all the hungry soldiers coming in and old Rex is polishing the bar when the Tiefling girl shimmies through the cracked open window. She giggles as she tumbles across the gleaming oak to sit in front of Rex on the bar. She holds up the crimson coin-purse, embroidered with golden roses and thorns, and smiles at the gold dragonborn.  
“Betcha its enough for a hot breakfast! Lots of gold and silver!” her eyes gleam up at Rex and she begins to pull it open.   
He snatches her hands quickly, shoving them and the coin-purse down and out of sight.   
“Ya stark ravin’, girl? You don’t want to be flashing that about!” Rex sounds angry, but she can see the gleam of amusement in his eye. “Where did you get such a thing, Pup? Ye didn’t pinch it from some noble…”   
“Nope!” she grins at him. “A lady gave it to me.”  
Rex crosses his thick, scaly arms across his chest and fixes the Pup with a scowl. She can tell he does not buy it for a second.   
“Okay,” the girl relents “she didn’t give me her purse, but she really wanted to help. And she made it so easy, Rex!”  
“Bahamut’s grace, child,” he drags a clawed hand over the ridges of his head “ yer gonna be the death of me.” He shakes his head “Come now, lets see what ye got.”   
Holding the coin purse closer to her chest, she holds it open for Rex’s inspection. Almost instantly, the dragonborn is sputtering and cursing in his native tongue. Its enough to make the Pup jump.   
“What? What?” she yelps, almost dropping the purse, but Rex steadies her with a gentle hand.   
“Thas’ not silver in there Pup.” The old dragonborn almost wheezes, smoke coiling from his nostrils, his eyes wide. “What you’ve got your little hands is worth more than my very hide.”   
The little girl cocks her head, she doesn’t understand what hes saying. Rex shakes his head and leans in to whisper to her.   
“Ten gold pieces and fifty platinum.” His eyes are aglow with the laughter before it leaves his mouth. “Pup, that-“ he shakes his head and takes her little hands in his claws “that’s enough coin ta’ change yer life.”  
Her eyes dart from the purse back up to Rex, back to the purse. Platinum? She’s never even heard of platinum before this very moment and now she has a whole bag full. Her head begins to swim at the thought. Fifty platinum. Enough to change her life. The room begins to wobble slightly about her, it is all suddenly too much.   
The scrawny Tiefling outstretches her unsteady hands, pressing the heavy velvet bag into the scaly chest of the dragonborn.   
“No, no.” he huffs back at her, shaking his head. “Its yours, Pup. You can do somethin’ great for yourself-“  
“I entirely agree.” A rich honied voice calls from behind them.   
Rex raises his corded arms about the girl and pulls her to his chest, rising to his full height. He positively towers over the elven woman who stands at the center of his bar.   
“Who are you?” he snorts angrily “We’re not open fer business, lass. I suggest you come back later.”   
“I would love to, darling,” Elara casually brushes a few stray strands of her copper locks over her shoulder, taking a step forward. “but I’m afraid your little “pup” has something of mine.”   
Rex’s body stiffens and a low rumble begins in his gut.   
“That being said,” Elara saddles up to the bar and produces a long, slender pipe from inside her coat. She turns her eyes to the Tiefling girl, ignoring Rex. “I agree with your golden friend, little “pup”. I believe you are capable of great things.”   
The small girl peaks out from behind Rex’s bulging bicep, her curiosity outweighing her fear. Though ducks back down a second later when two small gouts of flame spark out Rex’s nostrils and he growls.  
“This is my establishment, Miss, and a’fore you try anything with the little one, you’ll be goin’ through me.” Rex’s attempts to intimidate the elf have little effect, if anything she seems even more at ease. She even lifts her pipe up to the flames to light the dried tobacco before offering him a gracious nod. “Now, state yer name, or be off with ya’”  
“Thank you, my dear. I was in need of a light.” She puffs on the pipe before blowing out a delicate blue-grey ring of smoke. “You may call me Elara Moonsong, sir. I do apologize for upsetting you so.”  
“Moonsong?” Rex snarls. The little Tiefling pokes her head out from behind Rex’s arm and she feels him stiffen at the sound of the name. Elara’s golden eyes twinkle as she takes another drag of the pipe.   
“Ah,” she sighs “I take it you’re familiar with my work.”   
“Work?” the little one asks as she looks up to see Rex’s jaw clench int a hard line. “What work?”   
“Lets just say, my dear,” Elara smiles warmly at the girl “that the bounty you hold in your hands, I earned from a single job.”   
Her blue eyes go wide, and she lets out a little gasp.   
“That’s right.” Elara nods “my people and I share spoils like this all the time. So it makes no difference to me if you keep that purse or not, I can afford it…”   
The girl watches Elara’s face. The elf woman keeps eye contact with her, doesn’t so much as twitch. Her voice it soft and inviting. It doesn’t feel like she is lying. It looks like she is waiting for something.   
“Then why ‘ave you come.” Rex grumbles. The girl can feel the tension in the arm that hold her. Rex sounds strange, his voice is curt and cold. To her, he sounds worried.   
“I shall get right to the point, “Pup”. You may keep my coin purse, Moonweaver’s blessing go with it, and you may live like a queen for a time. Few months, a year, who knows. But,” she pauses, letting the tension of the moment hang in the air. “return my purse, and I shall teach you to strive for better... You are capable of greatness, child, I have no doubt. You simply need the courage to pursue it.”   
The girl looks into Elara’s eyes, there is an unfamiliar fire there. Something that sears like anger – but hotter, purer. There is a power in those words even if she does not really understand them. Her little heart clenches tight, pushing against her ribcage as though it were trying to escape.   
“Would I have to leave?” her big blue eyes glance up at the old dragonborn shielding her.  
Rex and Elara exchange a glance, he glares down at her and Elara shrugs before returning her attention to the girl.  
“Yes. You would no longer roam the streets of Bladegarden. You would be my apprentice, join my coterie, and learn all I have to teach you.”  
The little girl squirms in Rex’s arms, turning her head away from Elara Moonsong. Her stomach twists all up in knots as her mind runs wild.   
Bladegarden is all she knows. She likes her freedom, likes Rex and Millie. This was her home.   
Her thoughts become a tangled mass.   
Does she like it? Is it simply the only way she’d ever known?  
“Shes not going anywhere with you, hunter.” Rex’s voice is low and thick with wrath. “Folk may not see through your disguise, but I know the sort of forces you toy with.”  
Elara sighs, rolling her eyes.  
“Once a cleric, always a cleric, I see.” She smiles sweetly at him. “But the choice is not yours to make, servitor of Bahamut.” She turns her eyes back to the girl “You decide your own future, child. I shall return tomorrow for your answer.”   
Elara flips a gold coin onto the bar and is gone, the girl does not even see her leave.   
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
Rex and Millie spend the rest of the day fussing over the girl and refuse let her out of their sight. Between the two of them, they run the poor girl ragged, trying to keep her distracted, but her mind is constantly racing.   
Now that they’ve closed up for the night and Rex and Millie have retired for the evening, the Pup is finally free to make her escape.   
Using her clawed fingers and toes, the girl climbs out the window of the storeroom into the cool crisp air of the night.   
Bladegarden is blissfully quiet as she wanders the empty streets. The dirty little ragamuffin does not attract much attention, even from the few drunkards she does pass. The gentle breeze tangles its fingers through the mass of her hair, tickling the nape of her neck, its soothing. Though nothing can calm the feverish thoughts that pound between the girl’s eyes. She lets out a long sigh, as if trying to force them out.   
Elara’s words have burned themselves into her brain, pacing tracks deep into her conscious mind.   
“You decide your own future”  
A chill runs up her spine at the idea. Until today, she didn’t have a future. She was just a skinny little nobody, free to tear about town. No parents, or rules to restrain her. Now this strange woman is dangling a mysterious future before her.   
Rex’s reaction flashes across her mind and she feels her stomach twist again. If Rex is worried, shouldn’t she be too?   
As she attempts to unfurl the tangled ball of fresh hopes and fears rolling about in her mind, the child isn’t looking when she turns the corner into another dark sideroad. She walks face first into the solid form of a man, clad in a tattered brown tunic and matching breeches.  
“Oh! Jeeze mister I’m so-“  
She bites back the rest of her apology as she hears a low moan and realizes theres not one man, but two. The man she walked into has another man pressed against the wall of the alley and it looks like his face is buried in the other man’s neck. The girl’s cheeks flush. Her eyes dart down to the dirt road and she hurries past.   
It was not the first time she’d seen adults – what did Millie call it – “necking” in an alley. Sleeping on the streets, she sees all kinds of things folks mean to hide, but she knows better than to stick around.   
She doesn’t look up as she scurries by, keeping her head down even as the other man lets out another long, low moan. She rushes a little faster when the moan devolves into a breathless whimper.   
Its when that whimper is followed by a slow, wet tearing - like a hound feasting on scraps- that she stops.   
That is not normal.  
She raises her eyes from the street and looks ahead.   
The dark alleyway is a short one and comes to a dead end only a few feet in front of her. Only thing waiting there for her is a stack of crates and filth from the buildings that loom ahead. There are no doors from those buildings into the alley, so no one could have gone ahead of her.   
She hears the sound again, wet slurping and ripping. It reminds her of the old quartermaster who’s missing most of his teeth, when he comes into the Rat for Millie’s beef stew.   
A sickening, sloppy crunch echoes down the alley.   
That sound she recognizes.   
The sound of bone breaking.   
She clutches her rags around her as her slender chest begins to heave in panic. The slurping and tearing echo even louder. Its clear now where they are coming from.   
Her stomach drops into her toes as she slowly turns her head to the men behind her. In the glow of the full moon light, she gets a good look at the pair.   
The man against the wall is limp, his head lolling to one side, his mouth hangs agape. Its an expression that could have been mistaken for ecstasy, had his head not been dangling by threads of shredded muscle and flesh to what had been the stump of his neck.   
The man she had walked into was holding the body against the wall with such strength that his fingernails had torn into the flesh of his victim’s arms. His flesh gleamed a sickly grey in the moon’s pale light, as did the bright crimson of fresh, steaming blood. Blunt human teeth, not suitable for ripping and tearing live flesh, had made a mangled mess of his victim’s neck. Blood and tissue covered the front of his ragged tunic.   
What had flowed freely was already beginning to congeal in those gnashing teeth and was tacky against his skin. His jaws ground deep into the other man’s flesh.   
The girl cannot believe her eyes. She was dreaming. She is back in the Warf Rat, maybe asleep on the kitchen floors again, but this is not real.   
It can’t be.   
Then the ghoul raises its head. Cold black eyes rip past her mental defenses and into her very soul. Her heart stops in her chest, lungs convulse then clench as if in a vice. Every muscle in her diminutive body constricts against the most primal, most vicious fear.   
Even her voice dies in her throat.   
With a shambling lurch, the ghoul drops its meal. The cold flesh has lost its allure in the presence of such a wildly beating heart. Saliva and viscera ooze from its distended jaw as it drags itself toward her.   
The girl trembles trapped inside her own body as this thing, this nightmare, closes the distance between them. Cold, dead hands painted red in the blood of its prey, reach for her. She cannot even close her eyes and wait for it all to end.   
“Disgusting creature.” A rich voice cuts through the night air, spitting the words out with vicious contempt. “Aberration of nature’s design, your death has been stolen from you,”   
The Tiefling girl watches as Elara steps out of the shadows from behind the twisted creature. Poised and perfect as a jungle cat ready to strike, a curved saber in her right hand. “I shall return it to you.”   
The young girl watches in horror as, with practiced grace, Elara drags the slender blade across the back of her own hand. Instantly, the blood ignites upon the ornate blade, and bursts into a radiant golden light. Elara herself transforms as she is engulfed, like a crimson angel descending from the realms beyond.   
The divine light cascading off Elara and her blade crashes into the monstrosity shambling toward the girl. The creature lets out a bone-shattering shriek, dropping to the ground. It covers its face in its mangled, rotten hands and cowers at the feet of the avenging angel.   
“May your gods welcome you, if it is right that they should do so.” Elara offers a final declamation before taking a single strike. With a deft flick of the wrist, the beast’s head is severed from its shoulders, tumbling out of sight.   
Like parchment in a bonfire, the animated corpse’s dead flesh begins to blacken and crumble as the divine light from the blade slowly burns it away. The stump of its neck collapses inward as golden embers spider their way down its torso, crushing the dead flesh into ash. Elara, her eyes burning with radiant light, stands over the corpse to watch until nothing remains but ash.   
The Tiefling girl crumples on the ground, staring at the blackened pile of ash at her feet. Her throat constricts against the mass of terror trying to escape, her tiny clawed fingers dig into the street. Tears well up, turning the dark alleyway into a pool of inky black and gold. Try as she might, the girl cannot bite them back. Every ounce of that venomous fear forces its way through her, wracking her emaciated frame with violent, desperate sobs.   
She barely hears the running footsteps and a stranger’s voice over the sound of her own terror.   
“Mistress!” the low, gruff voice is alight with panic as their heavy boots turn the corner.   
Elara makes a gentle shushing sound.   
“Its alright, darling,” she says, her voice quiet and soothing. “the beast is dead. The others?”   
The man lets out a sigh of relief that comes out more like a growl.   
“Girls have taken down two. Tamlin’s been bit, but he’ll live. “  
The child cannot quell her sobbing, but she rubs the tears out of her eyes to see.   
A figure clad in black leathers towers over Elara, his head bowed in a gesture of respect, his broad chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. The hood conceals the features of his face except for the tips of his pointed red ears and a single golden, cat-like eye that seems to glow in the light radiating off Elara.   
Elara nods up at him, pressing the palm of her still-bleeding hand against his heaving chest.   
“Dispose of this,” she gestures to the ghoul’s victim, his wound still oozing at her feet “then gather them for me and head back to the vardos. We’re done here.”  
His massive red hand with black clawed fingers reaches up to press against Elara’s. The man’s paw engulfs Elara’s hand completely, giving her a gentle squeeze as he nods.   
“Consider it done.” His eye drifts over Elara’s shoulder and meets the gaze of the still sobbing Tiefling girl. She thinks she sees him wince before he looks away. “You?”  
Elara’s hand slips from his and turns toward the child.   
“I’ll be along, Garrik.” She sheathes her slender sword, plunging the alleyway into darkness.   
The girl shrieks as the darkness swallows her up.  
“Wait!” she chokes on the word “Don’t-“  
“Shhh, shhh” a soft hand slips out from the black, cool and gentle, to stroke her sopping cheek.   
When the girl’s eyes adjust to the black of the night, Elara is kneeling before her. The elf’s ageless amber eyes soften, and she reaches to collect the trembling Tiefling child in her arms.   
“Its alright,” she coos “you’re safe now. I won’t leave you, little one.” Elara’s slender arms pull the child tightly to her chest and the little imp buries her face into Elara’s blouse. “No more tears, sweetheart.” She soothes, smoothing the girl’s matted hair and rocking her gently. “No one will harm you, I’ve got you.”  
The girl squeezes her eyes shut and knots her fingers tightly into Elara’s coat. Her sobs begin to slow as the elf’s fingers thread gently through her hair. The child takes deep breaths, filling her nostrils with the scent of incense, rosewater, and ozone. She melts against Elara without a second thought. She feels safe here. Safe, warm, and protected.   
The child thinks back to that morning, of the bread she stole and all the grief that came with it. Of nights sleeping against chimneys and under gutters. Every sharp kick by every guard or noble she’d dared to cross.   
She shivers in Elara’s arms as her words echoed again in her mind.   
“You decide your own future”  
Before she can talk herself out of it, the Tiefling reaches into her rags and grabs out the gold and velvet coin purse. She cannot bring herself to speak, she simply presses the heavy purse into Elara’s chest.   
Elara stops suddenly, her hand reaches up to graze the embroidery on the purse. A breath hitches in her throat as Elara presses her warm, soft lips gently into the girl’s hair.   
“Come, darling,” Elara whispers “lets get you home.” 

Part 2  
The Dancer  
(coming soon…)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a two art series. There is potential for the series to expand, but t the moment I have only two parts planned. Criticizm is totally welcome, I am a full time writer and welcome critique of my work. 
> 
> This is the first of what I hope will be many posts on the site, so please enjoy.
> 
> Part 2  
> The Dancer  
> (coming soon…)


End file.
